About Kristen Simmons: Kristen Simmons is an author of young-adult fiction.
Behind us are two or three dozen country people from the outlying towns. With them are cages of chicken and goats, sheep, even cattle. That’s where we fit on market day. Between the executions and the livestock sales.
I feel a strange sensation brewing inside of me. It tickles my throat and forces my lips into a grin. Before I can stifle it, I giggle. And then I laugh.
We are strong and proud and beautiful and there are not enough stars in the night sky to measure our worth. I will honor my mother and take care of my family. Yes, I think. I am just a woman.
Losing your family... it puts fear in a different perspective, Chase had once told me.
His green eyes blazed with desire; such a different look than I'd known before. Chase had studied me, reading my feelings. Tucker was only trying to see his own reflection. Disturbing on several levels.
He put a hand on his throat, as though trying to stop the words, but they came anyway. "You're home. To me.
It was you," I say softly. "It's always you I think about." The intensity in his gaze took my breath away. I could feel him. Every part of him. His soul was sewn to mine. His heated blood flowed through my veins. I'd thought that I had been close to ...
Don't do that again! Not ever again!" I told him. "I should say the same to you," he said. I could feel his breath, warm on my neck. "Promise me!" I demanded. "I... I promise." "I can't lose you.
The fear, momentarily paused, returned with full force, and in this frantic, baffled state I ran to him, and leapt into his arms. He seemed surprised at first but soon was squeezing back. "It's all right," he soothed. "No one's hurt. You're okay." Hi...
I promise I'll come back. No matter what happens." Though his voice was only a whisper, there was a fierceness behind it. I believed him completely. "I'll wait for you," I told him.
